Hold Onto Me, I'm a Little Unsteady
by owlwayssandforever
Summary: Emma isn't the only one who has trouble with goodbyes. Warning: multiple character deaths. *Nominated for Best One Shot in 2016 CSFAs*


_Mother, I know that you're tired of being alone_  
 _Dad, I know you're trying to fight when you feel like flying_  
 _But if you love me, don't let go_

"Killy, Killy wake up." Liam Jones shook his four year old brother's shoulder, and he saw the little boy's blue eyes blink open sleepily.

"Wha-?" he groaned, trying to cover his head with his small pillow, but Liam yanked it away.

"Killy, you have to get up, come on," he said, tugging on his brother's hand.

"Why?" Killian whined, slowly swinging his legs off the bed, his little fist rubbing at his eyes.

"Mama's... she's... just come, Killy," Liam tried to explain, but words failed him.

Killian's blue eyes widened, and he understood. Even at four years old, he knew what Liam was unable to tell him. Their mother had been sick for some time, unable to get out of bed, coughing constantly. Despite Liam's optimistic words that she would get better, Killian could see that she was merely getting worse. He had never known someone who died before, not really. The neighbor, Edward, who was only a little older than Killian, had lost his mother in childbirth. When Killian had asked him one day why he had no mother, his ears had been boxed and his father had sat him down to explain. So he was not unfamiliar with the concept of death, and he had known, somewhere deep down in his little heart, that that was where his mother was headed.

He pushed himself to his feet and shuffled through to the other room of their little cottage, feeling as though he were in a daze, and Liam followed close behind.

"My boys," their mother breathed when they were close enough to each grasp one of her hands, so quiet they could barely hear her. Killian crawled up onto the bed with her, careful to lie next to her and not put any weight on her.

"Mama, please don't go," he whispered, tears already pricking his blue eyes, and they looked like the sea.

"I have to, baby," she answered him, her own tears tracing a path down her cheeks. "It's time."

"But I love you too much," Killian hiccoughed, the entirety of his little body wracked with the force of his sobs.

"I love you too, Killian, so very much," his mother replied, her eyelids starting to droop.

"Mama?" he cried out, and she pulled her hand from his to run in through his dark locks one more time, before her eyes closed and her hand fell to the bed, and her chest stopped heaving. "Mama! Mama come back! Mama please!"

Liam put his hand on Killian's shoulder and pulled him away, but Killian fought to stay with their mother, until the only way Liam could get them separated was wedge his way in between them, so Killian clung to him instead of her. He lifted his brother, with some effort, and carried him past where their father sat in the corner, a bottle of whiskey clenched tightly in his hand. Liam set his brother down on the bed they shared, but the younger boy wouldn't let go, his tears soaking Liam's shirt. He sat down next to Killian, his arm around his shoulders, holding him close as Killian kept crying, his own tears streaming silently down his face. He had to be strong for Killian, had to be the rock his brother could hold on to. Liam cradled his brother until Killian had cried himself to sleep, then lay him down and tucked him under the blanket, crawling in beside him. Even in his sleep, Killian reached for Liam, snuggling close as he sniffled his way into dreaming.

* * *

Killian woke with a start, the violent motion of the ship beneath him corresponding to the horrific scenes of his nightmare, and he felt a cold sweat tickling the back of his neck. He sniffled back tears and looked around for his father, seeking out the comfort of his words, but the man was nowhere to be seen, his bunk disturbingly empty. Killian tiptoed across the room to his father's bed, careful to make as little noise as possible on the creaky wood floor. The sheets were ruffled and messy, as though he had left in a hurry, but the small stack of clothes he kept was gone as well.

"Liam! Liam, wake up!" Killian cried out, shaking his older brother as the ship pitched beneath his feet and he struggled to gain his balance. "Father's gone!"

Liam merely groaned and shifted away from his brother, shaking his shoulder loose of the smaller boy's hand. Killian ran toward the door, wrenching it open, intending to go search every corner of the ship until he found his father, but he was met instead with the large body of the ship's captain.

"Are you looking for your father?" the captain sneered, his dark eyes glinting with glee at the tortured look in Killian's eyes. "Look out there. He rowed away an hour ago."

"Rowed away? Why?" Killian asked, confused. He heard Liam stir behind him, his sleep obviously disturbed by the noise in their cabin.

"Your father aint what you think," the captain informed Killian, a little too happily. "He's a thief, a fugitive from the law. He heard there were soldiers waiting at the next port, so he bought my old rowboat… and left."

"Why would he leave us?" Killian countered, his young mind unable to make sense of such a story.

He felt Liam's hand on his shoulder as the older boy stoically accepted their fate. Killian might be surprised by this betrayal, but Liam could hardly say the same. He knew, far better than his brother, about their father's more nefarious activities, and the struggle he had caring for his sons since their mother died. It was perhaps the one good thing that could be said for Brennan Jones, that he had loved their mother deeply. Losing her had wrecked him in a way that nothing else good, and his children had only served as a reminder of that pain every day since her death. Killian was too young to understand this, but Liam knew.

"How do you think he paid for the boat?" the captain explained with a vicious smile. "He traded you and your brother into my service."

"No!" Killian screamed, lashing out at the captain, restrained only by Liam's hold on the shoulder of his pajamas. "No, he wouldn't do that!"

"Now you know what kind of man your father really is," the captain jeered, backing out of the cabin and closing the door behind him.

The moment the door was shut, Liam let go of his younger brother, and Killian sprinted toward it, trying to yank the door open, but the captain had locked it firmly. Killian hammered his little fists on the wood, to no avail, his blue eyes watering against his will. Liam put his hand on his brother's shoulder once more, and Killian instantly relaxed, slumping into the older boy's arms. They slid to the floor together, Killian leaning heavily on Liam, and Liam's arms wrapped protectively around Killian's body.

"It's not fair," Killian moaned into Liam's shirt, and the older boy rubbed soothingly at his back.

"We'll be better off without him," he assured his brother, trying to convince himself as well.

"How can you say that?" Killian gasped, looking at his brother in horror. "We'll be slaves!"

"Perhaps the captain will be kind to us, if we behave," Liam reasoned, not looking at his brother. He had a hard time believing it himself, but it was his job, now more than ever, to be the beacon of hope for Killian. They had lost their family, their freedom, but Liam was damn well going to make sure that Killian didn't lose hope as well. "Come, lets go back to sleep. Dawn will be here before you know it."

"Can I – can I sleep with you tonight?" Killian asked tentatively, and Liam nodded, pushing himself to his feet and taking Killian's hand to pull him up too.

"Of course, Killy."

They clambered into Liam's bunk, Killian closer to the wall of the cabin, and Killian immediately snuggled his way into Liam's side, clinging to his shirt as though his entire life depended on it. Liam smiled a little to himself. Regardless of their other circumstances, at least this hadn't changed. He was still Killian's rock, a position he would gladly occupy until the day he died.

"I'll always be here, little brother," he whispered to Killian as the younger boy started to doze off, and Killian responded by snuggling closer.

* * *

Killian stared at the water as it ran down the windows washing back into the sea they had just landed in. It was miraculously blue, the warmth of the sun inviting, as though welcoming them home.

"What do you say, Liam?" Killian asked his brother, feeling unstoppable. "You want some company when you report to the admiralty?"

There was no response, and Killian turned to find Liam stopped over, his hand clutching at his heart, struggling to breathe.

"Liam?" Killian said, concern dripping through his voice. He watched as his brother slid to the floor, gasping, and then dove towards him, pulling Liam onto his lap. "No! No! Liam! Liam, Liam! No, no, no, no, no, no." The words were like a mantra, repeated to himself and to Liam, and to whatever gods might exist, a prayer for mercy. "No, help! Help!" he called out, as loud as possible, but no one heard, no one came running to the captain's quarters.

And then Liam's struggles for air stopped, his movements stilled, and the pulse beating through his veins quieted. Killian knew immediately why, and there were no more supplications to the gods for help, no more pleas for this not to be happening. There was simply a grief he had never felt before, sudden and overwhelming, as he lost the last thing he had in all the realms. His fingers ran over Liam's skin, before Killian stopped, holding his hands out as though they were covered with his brother's blood. He felt they might as well have been.

"Liam," he sobbed, gasping for air as he tried to still the shaking of his body.

He was reeling, his soul feeling as though it were a ship being pitched back and forth on the most violent of seas, a storm ripping at his masts and rigging. He clung to Liam's body, his fist wrapping itself in his brother's coat, but the action did not provide the comfort it had done once. Without Liam's words of hope and warm embrace, there was no soothing to be felt. Liam, who had promised to always be with him, gone. Who would be his anchor now?

* * *

Killian and Emma sat in the doctor's office, confirming what they already knew, what they had known for days already, that they had lost the baby. They still had Henry, and Izzie, but he had still wanted this other one. And he had loved it already. Only a few weeks since they had found out and he had loved it beyond comprehension. And Emma was fine, upset, but far stronger than he was. He had lost far too much of his family, and yet it hurt just as much each time. He had yet to get accustomed to the sensation of having his heart torn apart.

"Killian, are you alright?" Emma asked him at last, as they entered their house after a very quiet car ride home.

He nodded, unable to speak as he collapsed on the couch, his head in his hands as he tried to hold the tears inside. He didn't want Emma to see how much this had upset him, didn't want her to think it was her fault, because it wasn't. If anything it was his, he was far too old. _Their daughter had probably been a fluke, but he was too old, had died for heavens sake, and he probably couldn't…_ he silenced the thought, pushing it to the back of his mind to deal with later.

"It's alright if you're upset," Emma whispered, and he just noticed that she had sat down next to him on the couch, her hand placed tentatively on his back, and he tore his hands away from his face, looking up at her, and letting her see the pain that was in his eyes. He was surprised to see it mirrored back in hers. "I'm sad too."

Killian slid his arm around her waist, pulling her tight against him, and they both tipped to the side, pulling their legs onto the couch so they were lying down, snuggled close. Emma carded her fingers through his hair, and his fingers toyed with the edge of her shirt. After a few minutes, he felt her tears soaking through his shirt, and something within him broke like a dam, his own pain flooding forward, and he didn't try to stop the tears from coming. They stayed like that for some time, it could have been minutes, or hours, before Emma shifted to look up at him, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

"We're going to get through this," she said simply, and he nodded, surprised by her optimism. Perhaps all the time with her parents was beginning to rub off on her.

"Aye, love," he answered, pressing his lips to her forehead.

Neither of them moved from their spot on the couch, content to cling to each other and seek comfort from each other. Not only was she his rock, but he was hers. They steadied each other, kept each other from losing all hope and turning to the darkness that they both felt tug at them on occasion. Emma was the one he could hold onto every time he felt sadness well up inside of him like a tide threatening to drown him, and inevitably she saved him, pulled him from the depths of his own mind. She became his new rock, his new anchor. And she promised to always be there, and she was.


End file.
